"Ah, my little barbarian, you do not understand me. If an ancient bachelor, whose head shone like the moon there in the sky, were to give to some blithe young belle a rose or a lily, she would, most likely, twist it in her hair; but if some other person had presented the flower, one whose eye was brighter, whose step was quicker, whose laugh was cheerier, whose years were fewer; in short, ma chere Annette, if some one for whom she cared just a little more than for any other man that walked over the face of creation, had presented it to her, she would not put it in her hair. No, my unsophisticated one, she would feel about with her unerring fingers, for the spot nearest her heart, and there she would fasten the gift. Now, ma Marie, suppose you had possessed all this information when I gave you the flower, where would you have pinned it?"
"Nobody has ever done so much for me as Monsieur. He leaped into the flood, risking his life to save mine. I would be an ungrateful girl, then, if I did not think more of him than of any other man; therefore, I would have pinned your flower on the spot nearest my heart."
Then, deftly, and before he could determine what her supple arms and nimble brown fingers were about, she had disengaged the lily from her hair, and pinned it upon her bosom.
"There now, Monsieur, is it in the right place?" and she looked at him with a glance exhibiting the most curious commingling of naivete and coquetry.
"I cannot answer. I do not think that you understand me yet. If the act of saving you from drowning were to determine the place you should wear the rose, then the head, as you first chose, was the proper spot. Do you know what the word Love means?"
"O, I could guess, perhaps, if I don't know. I have heard a good deal about it, and Violette, who is fond of a young Frenchman, has explained it so fully to me, that I think I know. Yes, Monsieur, I do know."
"Well, you little rogue, it takes one a long time to find out whether you do or not. In fact I am not quite satisfied on the point. However, let me suppose that you do know what love is; the all-consuming sort; the kind that sighs like the furnace. Well, supposing that a flower is worn over the heart only to express love of this sort, where would you, with full knowledge of this fact, have pinned the blossom that I plucked for you this morning?"
"Since I do not understand the meaning of the word love with very great clearness,—I think Monsieur has expressed the doubt that I do understand it—I would not have known where to pin the flower. I would not have worn it at all. I would, Monsieur, if home, have set it in a goblet, and taking my stitching, would have gazed upon it all the day, and prayed my guardian angel to give me some hint as to where I ought to put it on."
"You little savage, you have eluded me again. Do you remember me telling you that some day, if you found out for me a couple of good flocks of turkeys, I would bring you some coppers?"
"I do."